Tag: grief

Yelly Writes

Shifting Seasons of Loss: Grief, Waves and Personal Growth

Yelly
@yellywelly

Some days carry grief quietly. Tonight, let it speak, then let it rest. — Unknown

I’ve put off dealing with a lot of things – the inevitable grief that comes from losing both parents whom I love very dearly in a span of 4 years, the end of relationships that I thought would stand the test of time and personal growth, accepting burnout, and the need to step back from toxic environments. But my body and my mind had other plans. They both demanded that I stop and step back.

The Universe also conspired to give me the time to actually start dealing with everything. Things fell into place, and I had the time and space. Also, it was deal with things or basically unravel. I was deathly afraid of unravelling in public, and there were times when it was touch and go. I had to deal with what was going on in my head, my heart, my body, and my soul, or else I really would lose it in a way that I would find it hard to recover from.

One of the things I had to sit down and deal with was the unexpressed grief I’d been carrying with me for so long. It was eating away at me. I needed to sit down, open that box, and look inside.

Grief is never linear, and the process is not straightforward. There are peaks and troughs in the rhythms of grief. There are days when it hums quietly, almost unnoticeable in the background. There are days when it feels like it’s a loud, thundering wildebeest stampede, coming to trample you. Everyone’s experience of grief is different because we move through life differently. We weave through the stages of grief according to our own capacity and capability. And however we do that is okay. It is our individual journey.

Sometimes it will feel like you’re moving back and forth — rebuilding might mean you’re moving in reverse, like you’re facing an identity crisis before you reach a point of understanding. Sometimes you need a wave to crash over you and completely destabilise you so that you can reach a point where you’re stabilised and grounded, because you have a deeper understanding of yourself and what you’re going through.

It’s okay to wail and rail and to let out your grief. That’s part of it. Let it out. Let it shout. Express it. Then let yourself rest and recover.

Yelly Writes

My Tita Migen

Yelly

She was Maria Ignacia Generosa Libre Osorio. But to me, she was simply Tita Gengen. 

She taught us about colours and art. She shared with us her precious tempera paints and oils and allowed us to discover our own art and colours. She taught us how to sharpen a lead pencil carefully with a Stanley knife. She shared her piano with us and started our love affair with music and taught us to respect the instrument. She wrote poetry and beautiful prose and shared with us her love of literature. On my Facebook post, I forgot to mention that she introduced me to gin rummy and solitaire and she said that as long as I knew how to play cards, I would never be bored in my own company.

She had clarity of mind and strength of will to achieve what she wanted to achieve, and nothing stopped her. Not even her own personal limitations.

She loved us, her family – her brothers and sisters, her nieces and nephews. She loved us as fiercely as only she could.

I know that you are now healthy and whole and happy with Lolo, Lola, Unce Magni, Tita Margie, Uncle Franklin and Uncle Wawell. But I will miss you Tita Migen. More than I can ever put into words.

I love you Tita Gengen.

@yellywelly
Yelly Writes

Year 2

Yelly

To lose someone you love is the very worst thing in the world. It creates an invisible hole that you feel you are falling down and will never end. People you love make the world real and solid and when they suddenly go away forever, nothing feels solid any more.

Matt Haig

Today is my Abba’s second-year death anniversary, and yet this morning, I woke up and felt absolutely heartbroken again. I think the pain was different this year because this was the first year I was completely alone in remembering him. I’m sure his siblings thought about him today, and I’m sure Mama and my siblings touched his urn and lit a candle, but this year, I was completely alone with my thoughts without a memorial service to organise and wake up for.

I know my mom thinks about him every day – I mean how could she not – they were together for more than 50 years, and solidly together for 7 years when my father fell ill because she was his primary carer. I cannot imagine the depths of her pain and how much she misses him. But this morning, I felt absolutely heartsick and I cried like a child because I missed my father so much.

I know the void that my father’s passing has created in my life will never be filled. I need to remember to give myself time – time to come to terms with my father’s death (because I don’t think I’ve properly grieved), time to heal, time to allow the pain to shift. I know the pain will always be there but it will feel differently eventually.

@yellywelly
Yelly Writes

Perspective

Yelly

I’ve not been feeling the urge to write. So I’m thankful for the ability to take photos. It allows me to put in content in other ways. I think the writing muses are letting me adjust to the massive change in my life. I don’t think I’m in the right grief stage. I’m waiting for the despondency to hit me…right when I’m vulnerable and not expecting it.

My feelings are still spaghetti-in-bowl tangled and I think I need to sort things out in my head first so that it makes sense to me.

Yelly Writes

Grief

Yelly

I know I am still grieving.  Even though I smile and I laugh at things.  My days are still tinged with sadness.  But I will be okay.

I have told myself that whatever it was that I wanted to say, whatever it was that I never actually said to my uncle, if I send out in the universe, God will make it possible for my thoughts to reach my uncle.  He will know how much he is loved, valued, oh-so-appreciated and respected.  The regrets are counterproductive.  It is good to acknowledge them, but it won’t be healthy to dwell on them.  There is nothing that can be done about the things that I haven’t done.  The opportunities have passed and I will have to trust that God will make my good plans and intentions known to Uncle Wawell.

The only way to honour him is to live the life that I am living, the life that he dreamed for me and all his nieces and nephews.